


Dancing in Hundred Day Intervals

by turningofflights



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, bamon dancing, bamon smoking the devil's lettuce together, how damon found out bonnie sleep talks, no kai prison world, pretty damn fluffy, prison world bamon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turningofflights/pseuds/turningofflights
Summary: Damon dances with Bonnie every hundred days in 1994. An exploration of the vampire looking at her a little differently with every joke, every glance, every touch, and every dance. Prison world, no Kai, oneshot.
Relationships: Bonnie Bennett/Damon Salvatore
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	Dancing in Hundred Day Intervals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DemonSalivatore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonSalivatore/gifts).



DAY 100

“Okay, I give up. I cannot figure out what he says before ‘Your Highness’,” Bonnie complained.

“It doesn’t matter what he says,” Damon replied.

“Well, I’m _trying_ to sing along, so it does matter a little bit.”

“Or maybe Kurt wanted to spare me from your singing.”

Bonnie had leaned the passenger seat of Damon’s car all the way back. She had her feet up on the dash, lying her head back on the head rest. Her dark sunglasses hid her eyes, and her blue flannel, or to be more accurate Damon’s blue flannel she stole, blew gently as the air rushed in from the rolled down windows. She absent-mindedly played with the hem of her shorts as she tried to discern Nirvana’s lyrics.

“Didn’t they keep lyric books with the CD cases or something?” she asked. Damon flipped his sun visor down to reveal a small selection of disks in an oh-so-90s CD holder. Bonnie let out a short, barking laugh. Damon bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at the sound.

“I was a real trend-setter, Bonnie,” he said. He wore dark sunglasses identical to her own and his favorite red flannel. He drove with one hand with his left elbow propped up on the frame of his car door window. His unruly hair blew in the breeze.

“Are you going to give me any hints?” she asked. This wasn’t their usual day trip. They tried to stay close to Mystic Falls just in case their friends had a breakthrough finding them, but they allowed themselves a weekly road trip to go explore their empty world. Just a few days ago, Damon helped Bonnie climb up on the Liberty Bell. He took a Polaroid of her leaning back, dangling off it, singing the chorus of Miley’s “Wrecking Ball”.

“Nope,” he said, smirking at her. She rolled her eyes then closed them, feeling the low sun on her face. She’d been icy with Damon for the last day since she caught him cheating at Battleship. She wouldn’t have even been that mad if he just copped to it. It was pretending he “didn’t know” the battleships couldn’t stack on top of each other that filled her with an irrational level of fury.

“Are we going to Mackinac Island again? Because I told you, I don’t like the way you steer the ferry. You jerk it all around. I threw up _twice_ ,” she said.

“I am all too aware of how many times you threw up, Bonnie. And excuse me, I never thought to take ferry captain lessons.”

“New York again?” she asked.

“What part of ‘no hints’?” he asked, exasperated. He pulled off on an exit ramp and Bonnie looked around curiously. Damon felt a twinge of pride. He loved making her guess.

“I don’t want Stefan’s hero hair to go flat waiting on us when he inevitably shows up,” he said. Damon didn’t always agree with Bonnie’s “stay close” policy, but he on occasion indulged her hopes of their rescue, especially when he was trying to get back into her pre-Battleship good graces. Damon turned up the music and snuck peeks out of the corner of his eye to see Bonnie’s head out the window, inspecting this random Virginia town she’d never heard of.

Suddenly, she saw it. A giant drive-in movie theater with a big screen and several rows of empty cars. Her head whipped around to look in the back seat. Folded blankets and two pillows sat in a tall stack. Two bottles of bourbon laid on top. Bonnie couldn’t help it. She grinned.

“I have no idea what’s playing. Hence the booze in case it sucks,” he cautioned.

“Did you bring Pop Rocks?” she asked.

“Just one pack, you junkie.”

“There will be more at concessions,” she waved him off. Damon turned into the parking lot, radiant at Bonnie’s infectious glee. The sun began to set, creating a pink hue behind the screen. Damon parked on the edge of the lot and got out of the car. Bonnie quirked her eyebrow and followed him.

“I don’t think we can really see at this angle,” she remarked. Damon ignored her, assessing the cars in the lot. He spotted what he was looking for: a roomy pickup truck.

“Why don’t you go back there and see what movie’s playing?” he asked, not looking back at her. Bonnie shrugged.

“Alright, lazy,” she said, walking back to the office. Damon sprinted to work, pushing cars to the edges of the lot. He murmured to himself as he pushed and pulled them out of the way.

“Of course, she has no magic. I’ll just be the vampire pack mule, moving twenty cars. Can’t she just say ‘vosmatos tomatoes’ and make them fly away?” he grumbled. The screen lit up behind him as the projector powered on. He pushed the last car to the edge and took a breath. He walked over to the truck and lifted it gently on one end, pulling it to the center of the lot.

“Wow,” he heard. His head popped up to find Bonnie looking around at the empty lot. He leaned against the truck. The purple sky framed her body as she stood with her hands on her hips.

“So about Battleship…” he started.

“Forgotten,” she said. She walked over to the car and grabbed the blankets from the backseat.

“What 90s monstrosity are we watching?” he asked. He couldn’t remember the exact year Reservoir Dogs came out, but he was hopeful.

“It’s Dirty Dancing,” she said. Damon looked at her incredulously.

“That’s 80s!” he complained.

“5-year anniversary?” she suggested, gathering the pillows in her arms. She shrugged as she made her way over to Damon. She dumped the blankets in his outstretched arms.

“It could be worse, I guess,” he climbed into the bed of the truck, strewing the blankets every which way.

“I’ve never seen it,” she said nonchalantly, lifting herself up into the truck bed. It took a couple of tries. Sometimes it sucked being petite.

“You’ve never seen Dirty Dancing?” he asked. He didn’t know that was even possible for a twenty-year-old woman.

“Well, mom wasn’t exactly around for the chick flick parts of life. She did leave her old Saved by the Bell copies by accident, though. I watched them over and over,” she said in a surprising confession. Her apathetic delivery tugged at Damon’s heart more than the story itself. She was so used to her mother disappointing her. She talked about her leaving like she was reading off the grocery list.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be, that show is great,” she said, backing up against a pillow. The previews began to play as the sun disappeared behind the screen. Bonnie pulled a blanket over her legs as Damon grabbed the bottles of bourbon. He handed her one and pulled the cork from his own. He raised the bottle to her.

“Well, here’s to fixing your mom’s mistakes. Dirty Dancing in Hell,” he said.

“I’ll drink to that,” she replied. Bonnie raised her bottle back. They connected in a _clink_.

An hour and a half later, they were shitfaced. When they first got to ’94 and she found herself eyeing the Salvatore bourbon collection, Bonnie decided to just enjoy the college drinking years she never got. Damon was always at least a little drunk given his and his brother’s habits of taking swigs from the bottle throughout the day. He rarely got _this_ drunk and, and when he did, it was usually when he was upset. Tonight, he was anything but. He fell into a laughing fit, collapsing over onto his side in the truck.

“All I’m _saying_ is that I could do that,” she insisted.

“Blind and limitless confidence four shots in? Right on drinking Bonnie schedule,” he quipped.

“I was the anchor to the other side, Damon! I’ve died and come back to life and died again! I took down Klaus! You think I can’t do the lift?” she asked, staring him down.

“Let’s see it,” he said, crawling out of the bed of the truck.

“No way. You’ll drop me,” she said, shaking her head feverishly.

“What!? I moved 20 cars today; you think I can’t lift you over my head?” he asked. He did a come-hither motion.

“I didn’t say you’ll drop me _accidentally_.”

Damon squinted at her thoughtfully. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to anticipate his next move. He walked up to the side of the truck and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

“Damon!” she shouted. She kicked her feet at him, but his hold on her was solid. He carried her to the center of the empty lot and set her down.

“No, no, Ms. Cocky. Let’s see you stick that landing,” he challenged. He turned around and walked several feet away from her. Bonnie stared at him for a few moments before she shook her head and doubled over laughing.

“I… I can’t do it,” she said, swaying on her feet.

“Nuh-uh. None of that. Apparently, you can do in 4 seconds what it took Jennifer Grey _months_ to train for--,” he began.

“Oh, my God!” Bonnie said, her jaw dropped.

“What?” he glared.

“You love it! You love this movie and were trying to be all macho vamp about it,” she shouted.

“Don’t turn this around!” he snipped, lifting his arms up. “Come on, Bon Bon.”

The rolling credits on the big screen illuminated Bonnie’s blushing face. She and Damon held one another’s gaze in a challenging standoff. She took a deep breath and felt the warmth from the whiskey in her cheeks. She got into an exaggerative running stance, placing one foot far in front of the other. She looked up to find Damon holding back a smile.

“It’s all part of the process,” she joked. Damon nodded dramatically. _Uh huh. Sure._

Bonnie took a bold sprint at him. He stood about ten feet from her, bracing for her leap. She slowed suddenly three-quarters of the way to him and found herself colliding with his chest.

“What was that!?” he asked as she fell against him.

“I panicked!” she admitted, hiding her face in her hands.

“Well, yeah!” he pried her hands off her face, so she’d have to look him in the eye. “Accept defeat.”

“No! Here, go woosh back there and rewind it. I want to see her form,” she demanded.

“You—you want to see her _form_? Oh, _that’s_ the key?” he asked. She crossed her arms and stood tall. He rolled his eyes and sprinted back to the control room. Bonnie walked back to her starting point. When she turned back around, he was already back, and the movie played.

She watched the screen as Baby prepared to run at Johnny. Her face depicted pure unadulterated trust in him. She looked back at Damon and her eyes filled with affection. If three months taught her anything, it’s if he said he wouldn’t let her fall, he wouldn’t let her fall. She ran at him in sync with the movie and leapt.

Damon caught Bonnie easily and lifted her above his head. She stretched her arms and legs out victoriously, and Damon gazed up at her proud face. He gently brought her back down, carefully guiding her torso down his own. He inexplicably didn’t move his hands from her hips, nor did she move her hands from his chest.

“I stand corrected. What was key in the form?” he asked.

“Hesitate and you’ll regret it,” she replied. Damon looked down at her face. The warm colors from the movie danced on her skin. Her tank top was disheveled from when he sat her down. His flannel drowned her. She’d needed to fold the sleeves over several times over to use her hands. He found himself oddly grateful she’d forgotten to do laundry the night before and needed to borrow it. It was all too quickly replaced by a pang of guilt, and he dropped his hands from her hips.

“Looks like it,” he said. She gave him a small smile and went back to get the pillows and blankets from the truck bed. Damon swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched her.

* * *

DAY 200

Bonnie walked up to the Salvatore Boarding House. She took a daily walk around Mystic Falls, imagining it filled with the people of her town. Morbid? Yes. Necessary alone time? Also, yes. She paused her Discman and pulled her headphones down. She held herself back from rolling her eyes as she imagined Damon’s usual mantra he sang out to her whenever she left the house. It was as charming as it was annoying.

_“Be safe; don’t talk to strangers!”_

She walked through the front door, wondering what Damon might have made for dinner. She froze as she crossed the threshold. Damon stood in the living room in front of a tall, elaborate blanket fort. Not three days before, she told him all about the forts she, Caroline, and Elena made together when they were kids. She told him that they made her feel safe.

“Okay, even with super-speed, there’s no way you weren’t working on this all day,” she said.

“Maybe,” he half-admitted. “Check it out. It’s like one of those expanding tents in Harry Potter.”

“Ugh, another thing we’re too early for,” she complained. Damon shook his head. He’d heard that one too many times. _“Couldn’t it have been 2000!? So we could get a few Harry Potter books and half of Aaliyah’s discography!?”_

Bonnie opened the makeshift entrance to the blanket fort. She had to admit: it was impressive. The blankets were hung high, about as tall as Damon. Pillows were strewn all over the floor. He put the stereo inside and lined the blankets with clear and colored Christmas lights. A 24-inch box set TV stood across the couch.

“We are _not_ watching The Silence of the Lamb _s_ again,” she warned, facing him.

“Don’t worry; I figured it’d be too intense,” he said.

“Too intense this time but not the first thirty times?” she asked. Damon pulled a bag of weed from behind his back. She looked at him, a small, amused expression on her face.

“Wait, wait, wait, I know what’ll get you,” he said. With his other hand, he pulled out a VHS tape.

“Saved by the Bell! High school _aaaaand_ college years,” he sang. She squinted at him, pretending to think about it. The image of him going into her old childhood bedroom, nearly two months after she mentioned it, to find the show filled her with gratitude.

“Or, you know, there’s always bourbon,” he added. She cringed at the thought of having any more of the stuff. She crossed her arms and sighed, raising a playful eyebrow at him.

“Where’d you even _find_ the College Years?” she asked, taking a step toward him.

“Carol Lockwood. Can you believe it?” he asked. Bonnie brought her finger to her chin.

“You know… I actually can?” Damon smiled and followed her out of the fort.

The two found themselves out on the porch, sitting on the ledge facing each other. Damon rolled a joint in disbelief.

“Your first time? Are you kidding me? You _date_ a stoner!” Damon said, shaking his head as he focused.

“I mean, I’m not all puritan about it, but Jeremy smoking? Not his most attractive quality. Besides, Caroline and Elena are pretty against it, so I just haven’t really tried it... And Ed.”

“Ed?” Damon asked.

“Dat _ed_. Past tense,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, come on, I’m sure he’s scowering the Earth looking for you. I bet they both are. Gilbert siblings, side-by-side, running around, I dunno, Indonesia or something looking for some magical time transporty spell thing. Wonder twin powers activate,” he said, looking around for a lighter. Bonnie snatched it from under the bag before he spotted it, holding it out of his reach. She held up a warning finger.

“If we do this, you need to promise not to fuck with me,” she said.

“What do you mean? That’s our thing,” he said.

“I just mean if it’s not a great experience, or—,” she started.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be #1 support guy,” he interrupted. Bonnie shot him a faux-irritated look, but the amusement crept into her eyes.

“Where’d you even find it anyway?” she asked, handing him the lighter.

“Stefan’s room,” he shrugged.

“ _Stefan’s_ room?”

“He used to be fun! Lexi and he had a whole 60s flower child thing,” he said, holding the lighter to the end of the joint. He took a small hit and exhaled smoothly.

“Ready? Or did you have something else to do?” he asked, holding it out to her. Bonnie shrugged off her nerves.

“Well, I’m tired of all the damn bourbon,” she said. Being around Damon gave her a bit of a sailor’s mouth. One time, they drove to D.C. and screamed curse words off the roof of the white house. She smiled slightly, remembering the day. Damon gave her a piggy back ride up onto the roof.

She brought the joint to her mouth and breathed in a little bit. Damon walked her through it earlier, but he watched her cautiously. He always did that. He was constantly assessing her comfort.

“Well?” he asked, as she blew out a small cloud of smoke.

“Life changing,” she replied flatly, though her eyes were warm. He nodded approvingly.

An hour later, the pair found themselves lying on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling of their blanket fort. The soft Christmas lights above them filled the room with a warm slow. Damon won their rock-paper-scissors match for music, so the Smashing Pumpkins played quietly in the room. An empty carton of Moosetracks ice cream laid on its side next to them. Two spoons weighed it down so a little drip of melted vanilla leaked onto the carpet. Damon gestured wildly as he talked.

“So then I said, ‘I don’t think the apothecary sells anything for being pigeon-livered,” he said. Bonnie burst into a fit of laughter. She demanded a lesson in 19th century slang, and Damon used it to segue into old stories of his and Stefan’s adventures. She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look at his face.

“Then what happened?” she asked, smiling.

“Oh, I ran. I got the fuck out of there,” he said, laughing up at her. Bonnie’s shoulders shook as she chuckled quietly.

“So, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when you were a human either, huh?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, did you say, ‘Wow, Damon, even as a human, you were so bold and brave standing up for your brother like that!'”

“I know you vampires are known for your terrible hearing, but that is _not_ what I said,” she smiled. Their quiet giggling dissipated, and Bonnie’s smile faltered.

“You think he’s really looking for me?” she asked. She didn’t need to say who.

“Well, he’s probably looking for Anna, but if he happens upon you--,” Damon joked. Bonnie punched him lightly in the arm and laid back down next to him. She shook her head, too high to be bothered by the comment. She closed her eyes gently and felt the tingles spread through her legs and arms. She told herself it didn’t matter if Jeremy was looking for her. He thought she was dead; what did she expect? She couldn’t shake a nagging feeling inside of her that she wanted somebody who would look as long as it would take to find her.

Damon looked over at Bonnie’s face. She glowed in the soft lighting. Her chest rose and fell as she took long, relaxed breaths. The corner of Damon’s mouth rose gently as he watched her. Without really thinking of it, he brought his hand to her forearm softly. The tingles in her body raced to where the warmth of Damon’s hand met her skin. She opened her eyes gently to meet his.

“Who wouldn’t look for you, Bon Bon?” he asked. She felt an odd pull in her heart at the comment. He held her eye for a moment too long.

“You, probably,” she teased.

“Well, it’d depend on how much shit you were talking.”

Damon kept his hand on her forearm. It’s not that they were obscenely unaffectionate typically. They’d on occasion pat each other on the shoulder. One of their earliest nights, they even hugged and shed some tears about missing their friends. Still, going months without real, personal touch was proving hard on the psyche. At least, that’s what he thought it was. That had to be why he let himself boldly draw small circles on her arm with his finger.

“Do you miss him?” He wasn’t really sure why he asked. Bonnie rolled onto her side and pulled her arm from Damon’s touch to lay her head on it. He pushed down the little feeling of rejection that arose from the gesture.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked. He rolled onto his side, mirroring her position to lay with their faces only inches apart.

“Well, I don’t know, there are a _lot_ of people I could tell,” he said. She rolled her eyes but continued.

“I don’t miss him as much as I thought I would,” she said. Damon raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“That could be a sign,” he said, uncharacteristically serious for a moment. She looked at him curiously and realized he was upholding his promise to support her tonight. She cautiously continued.

“Not to inflate an already too-giant ego, but being here… I’m realizing how much Jeremy and I just didn’t laugh together,” she said. Damon lit up and Bonnie cringed, annoyed with herself for opening this door. His face broke into a gleeful, teasing grin. He put on an abhorrent impression of her voice.

“Oh, Damon, being here with you, such a sexy, funny stud, has really shown me what a boring plank of wood Jerem--,”

“Shut up, you know that’s not what I meant,” she said, pushing him hard. He fell onto his back, and a light thud of guilt settled in his stomach. He knew exactly what Bonnie meant. He knew all too well. Something about the way Bonnie always gave it back to him was oddly energizing. Their back-and-forth and the way she never hesitated to put him in his place had him smiling constantly. He didn’t remember the last time he smiled so much. _“Stop, my face hurts!”_ was a common saying in their house.

The CD player began crooning the next track of the CD, a song called “Disarm”.

“This album is all over the place,” she commented.

“Just because you can’t appreciate the shifts…” he trailed off.

“This one isn’t bad,” she shrugged. Damon swallowed a ball of nerves in his throat and stood up. Truthfully, this was the song he usually skipped. Tonight, he held his hand out to her.

“Come on, Bon Bon,” he said. She paused for a moment before taking his hand, and he lifted her to her feet with ease. The ceiling of their blanket fort lightly grazed the top of his head. She felt a little flutter in her stomach at the sight.

“Are you as shitty a dancer as you are a cook?” she asked. He pulled her in closely and gently laid his hand on the small of her back.

“Looks like we’ll find out,” he said. Bonnie laid her left hand on his shoulder and held his right hand in her own. The weed created a blissful fog in Damon’s mind, and he closed his eyes, swaying to the music with her. The dance wasn’t elaborate. It was close and quiet. Damon brought their intertwined hands to his chest, and Bonnie laid her head on his shoulder. They traveled in small circles together.

_Cut that little child inside of me and such a part of you. The years burn. I used to be a little boy… so old in my shoes. And what I choose is my choice. What’s a boy supposed to do? The killer in me is the killer in you._

“This is a sad song,” she remarked softly.

“It used to be hard to listen to,” he blurted out. He regretted it the moment he did. His dad wasn’t a subject he brought up easily. He wanted to associate the slip with the high, but he knew it was Bonnie. It was increasingly hard to censor himself around her.

_The bitterness of one who’s left alone._

“But it’s not hard right now?” she whispered against his neck.

“New associations,” he said simply, listening to her heartbeat under the words. He pulled her in just a bit closer. It was such a small gesture Bonnie wasn’t even sure he meant to do it. She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye and found his eyes closed. She buried her nose deeper in the crook of his neck.

The album shuffled to the closing track and their swaying slowed to a stop. Bonnie brought her arms around Damon’s neck and he wrapped his around her waist. They stood there in a tight hug: the last two people on their Earth.

“I don’t know what I’d do--,” he began.

“I know,” she interrupted, sparing him from finishing the sentence. Damon lifted her gently, and Bonnie wrapped her legs around his waist. He sat on the ground gently holding her in place. They pressed their faces into the other’s shoulder, listening to each other’s pulses. If they made eye contact, the moment would inevitably break with embarrassment. The music filled their little blanket canopy, enveloping them. They were alone in the world, but they made the edges of it smaller. A planet of emptiness was overwhelming, but they clung to each other; fully aware they were all that kept each other sane. Fully aware that they likely would have ended their lives if it weren’t for the other.

Damon bowed his head, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. He took a deep breath. All he could smell was Bonnie. All he could feel was Bonnie holding him and him holding her. They joked and teased and bickered so much, all the time, every day. Sometimes it’s like they were afraid to be quiet. They were afraid of what might happen in the quiet.

Damon felt embarrassing tears come to his eyes. What happened in the quiet was accepting that he was falling in love with Bonnie Bennett. There was something so cripplingly overwhelming about it. She was brave, smart, and selfless. She made him laugh every day. She let him pick a chunk of her cotton candy off the top when they went to empty amusement parks and played bumper cars. Behind the realization’s overwhelmingness was a strong sense of blissful contentment holding her.

“What very special episode are we going to pick?” she whispered into his shoulder. Damon wondered if she was avoiding the quiet too, or if everything was in his head. Maybe she was just hugging him because she was lonely and missed her real friends.

“There’s no hope with dope?” he asked, blinking back his tears.

“Too on the nose,” she said.

“Jessie’s caffeine pill addiction?” he asked. Bonnie could hear his small smile in his voice.

“A true classic,” she replied. She slowly pulled back from the hug and got out of Damon’s lap. When he went to put the show on, he expected her to sit farther from him, but he was relieved when he found her in the same spot. He sat back on the couch and felt her arm pressed against his.

They got five minutes into the episode before her head fell onto his shoulder, and he heard her murmuring under her breath.

“Six blue buckets,” she mumbled, breathing deeply. Damon looked at the screen, trying to think about the show in front of him instead of the sleep talking Bonnie Bennett on his shoulder. He didn’t know she did that. He tried not to think about how cute it was.

* * *

DAY 300

A boombox sat perched on a blue striped beach towel laid in the sand. It blasted the Wu-Tang Clan’s first album. Behind it was a strip of extravagant beach houses. Where the West Los Angeles skyline met the water stood the only two people alive playing catch. The ocean reflected the pale moonlight as the calm waves gently kissed their ankles.

Bonnie caught the football easily. She wore a yellow bikini, far higher on the hips than she was used to. She cursed the women of the 90s and their uncomfortable swimsuits. She wore a long grey flannel unbuttoned in the front and a backwards Ram’s hat. Damon placed it on her head when they ran around the field earlier and stole the ball.

“You’re getting good at this, Bon Bon,” Damon observed.

“Well, duh. You’ve seen the ring,” she said, flashing him a Superbowl ring on her right hand. Bonnie and Damon gathered a collection of trophies: Grammys, Nobel Prizes, and Heismans. If you could name it, they had it in their bags. Bonnie hadn’t explicitly said when her hope for rescue dissipated, but as she suggested trips farther and farther from home base, Damon gathered her new pessimism. He found himself taking on most of the driving as they explored California together, prattling on about the endless possibilities of their empty world. It was day three-hundred and making Bonnie Bennett smile was a drug Damon couldn’t kick.

She tossed the football back to him with a perfect spiral, and he caught it quickly with one hand. Damon donned only black swim trunks. He’d joked that he had to be prepared to fish the ball out of the water, but he actually wanted to see if Bonnie’s gaze traveled around his pale skin. Thus far, it hadn’t happened to his annoying disappointment.

“What skill _will_ Bonnie Bennett pick up next!?” he asked in his dramatic newscaster voice.

“I’m thinking the bagpipes,” she joked. She never gave him a straight answer, but rather selected from an arsenal of the most annoying possibilities.

“Celebrities. They’re just like us,” he replied. Damon bobbed along to the music as he tossed the ball back. Bonnie bit back a laugh.

“Maybe we should put back on the Beck and spare me these moves. Unless ‘get rhythm’ was your next skill,” she said. Damon’s jaw dropped in semi-faux offense.

“I can dance!” he said defensively. Bonnie raised her right eyebrow.

“You mean your little shuffle?” she asked, imitating Damon’s favorite move, which he busted out on the banister whenever they had an impromptu dance party. She moved her arms exaggeratively as she mimicked him. Damon sprinted up to her, so he was only an inch from her face. She stared up at him, smirking.

“You think you’re _so_ much funnier than you are,” he said.

“And you think you can dance, so…” she trailed off. Damon bit back a smile and ran over to the boombox.

“I have a surprise for you,” he called back to her over his shoulder. He opened a small compartment in his bag and pulled a cassette tape out. He slid it into the boom box, and it made the familiar whirring sound. Damon turned the volume up loudly and Aaliyah’s “Back and Forth” echoed through the beach. Bonnie squealed with excitement.

“Are you serious!?” she yelled.

“April, 1994. Just barely made it,” he confirmed.

Damon ran up to Bonnie and took her hand in his, spinning her around. They danced to the beat of the music together, always shameless with no eyes on them. Bonnie shrieked as Damon dipped her as far down as her back would bend then whipped her back up again before he spun her again. She giggled as Damon tried to match her footwork to the old classic.

“Come on,” she instructed. Bonnie shrugged off her flannel and threw her hat and ring into the sand.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“You know, the _best_ place to practice lifts is in the water,” she said, pointing out to the ocean. Ever since she pried it out of Damon that Dirty Dancing was, indeed, one of his favorites, she watched it a dozen times so she could quote it as often as possible and remind him of his confession.

Damon shook his head and followed her into the water, making it a point to splash her as much as he could. Bonnie wiped the droplets from her cheeks.

“Child,” she said, sticking her tongue out. Damon stood close behind her.

“Okay, so what you do--,” he started, putting his hands on her hips. Bonnie looked back at him, confused.

“I’m teaching you the dance you can neither appreciate nor replicate,” he said. Bonnie threw her head back, laughing. She took a small step backward to close the distance between them, feeling his bare chest on her back.

“Now, it’s all in the footwork. We can add arms later. So let me see you go back and forth,” he timed his sentence to the words of the song. She rolled her eyes. He was so predictably Damon sometimes.

“Got it? Need me to go slower?” he asked.

“You mean, can I walk in a line? I think I can handle it,” Bonnie said, taking a step. Suddenly, Damon lifted her up and threw her forward hard. She screeched as she flew through the air before landing in the ocean. She swam to the surface, sputtering salt water. She found her footing on the sand below her.

“Damn it, Damon!” she yelled.

“You thought I could just let you get away with making fun of my dance?” he shouted back over to her. Bonnie felt a piece of seaweed brush her leg and glared daggers at the vampire. He grinned back at her. She threw her fists down against the surface of the water angrily.

Suddenly, Damon was launched into the air. He was thrown into the water like a ragdoll, helpless against the invisible force that tossed him. He landed with a loud splash, closer to the shore than Bonnie was.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Damon!?” Her heart raced as the seconds passed. Suddenly, his head popped up from beneath the surface. Bonnie felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She ran toward him, slower than she’d like, but Damon was in front of her in a second.

“Was that you!?” he asked.

“God, I thought something happened to you--,” she whispered.

“Bonnie,” he tried to cut her off.

“Really, Damon, I--,” she continued. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Bonnie! Do you have your magic back?”

She went quiet as she met his intense expression. She looked down at her hands and flicked her index finger. Suddenly, a jet of water around them flowed through the air in a small stream. It created an arch above them on an endless loop. She looked at Damon in disbelief. He pulled her in close for a tight hug and she happily returned it.

“You have to be the only person who can annoy me into getting my powers back,” she said into his neck. He held her tighter, willing her not to let go.

“Years of practice,” he retorted. She pulled away just enough to look at his face. He kept his hands on her waist. She looked up into his big eyes. They shared a weighted, emotional silence as the reality drew on them.

“That’s one step closer to getting you home to Elena,” she said. She dropped her gaze from his and put on a smile. He caught her left hand in his own, intertwining his fingers with her.

“Don’t, Bonnie,” he whispered, looking for her gaze. She reluctantly looked up at him. He brought his right thumb to her face and gently swiped a droplet of ocean water from her eyebrow.

“Don’t what?” she asked, keeping her voice even, too aware of Damon’s fingers desperately gripping her own.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know I’m in love with you,” he said. His voice cracked lightly as he searched her eyes for any hint of reciprocity. Her lips parted slightly as she took in what he said.

“We can’t,” she replied quietly.

“Bonnie, it’s been-,” he started.

“Not only because of Elena, Damon. I can’t… I can’t be why you hold it together. When Katherine broke up with you in Elena’s body, you and Enzo killed--,”

“Who do you think I’m going to kill? The inflatable guy at the car dealership?” he asked, already crawling into his defensive shell of humor. Bonnie swallowed and looked intently in his vulnerable, blue eyes.

“Damon, I’m the only woman in the world. You wouldn’t be saying this if I weren’t,” she shrugged, tears stinging her eyes. Damon took a careful step forward and held her cheek in his free hand. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft kiss. Bonnie’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling and two tears spilled down her cheeks. He looked down at her face and gently tilted her chin up. He pressed his forehead against hers and listened to her heartbeat. Bonnie felt his cool breath on her face.

“I’m saying this because you’re the only woman in any world, Bonnie. I can tell you anything you need to hear about the ways I’ve changed since we got here. I can, and they’re true, but none of that _matters_ if you don’t feel it back,” he said. His throat was tight anticipating the rejection. It’s the only thing he’d ever known to come of telling a woman he had feelings for her.

“Hey, hey,” Bonnie whispered, pulling her face away slightly. She looked up at him and smiled, biting her bottom lip. He looked back incredulously, his mind racing as evil optimism wiggled its way into his heart.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know I feel it back,” she said. Damon felt relief flood through his body and a big grin spread across his face. This wasn’t the Damon smirk. It was a full-blown toothy smile.

He grabbed Bonnie by her hips and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist immediately and their lips met in a sudden kiss. They didn’t know who leaned first. It didn’t matter. Bonnie wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her warm lips to his. He brought his hand to her hair line and stroked her temple gently as he moved his lips with her own.

Suddenly, the stream of water Bonnie had been holding fell on top of them and broke their kiss. Bonnie giggled as it soaked them both. Damon shook his hair out, covering her with more droplets of water.

“I broke your concentration,” he teased, carrying her slowly back toward the beach.

“I meant to do that. I was like, ‘God, how do I get this guy off me?’” she replied. Damon smiled softly, and she placed small kisses from his temple down his jawline as he stroked the small of her back with his thumb. Bonnie shivered lightly.

When they got out of the water, Damon set her down on the sand and sprinted to grab a towel for her. He was back in an instant and wrapped it around her shoulders. He rubbed her arms lightly to warm them. She looked up at him with loving eyes.

“Did you get the chance to scope out any of these houses while I grabbed dinner?” she asked, stepping closer to him. He nodded, fixating on a drop of water falling down her jaw.

“That fancy brown house has _three_ showerheads in the master bath,” he said. Bonnie nodded along, pretending to consider it carefully.

“Hmm, I see. And you care a lot about multiple showerheads because… hygiene is important,” she nodded.

“Of course. The most important. In fact, one of them is even detachable, can you believe that?” he asked. Bonnie smiled and raised her eyebrows.

“No shit,” she said.

“Yep. I was surprised too. And I figured, since you have sand in your hair…” he trailed off.

“Well, aren’t you considerate?” she asked, gazing up at him.

“Just for you, baby,” he said, closing the distance between their lips. He pulled Bonnie into a bridal carry as he kissed her. He walked over to the boom box and hit the power button with his foot. They had 300 days of talk. They deserved a little quiet.


End file.
